


The Ghost of Grief

by senatoramidala



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senatoramidala/pseuds/senatoramidala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucille has just lost her son, or, that's just what Thomas believes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Grief

One could never truly say what Lucille was brooding on when she was like that. Actually, one could not even imagine where Lucille was when her eyes became muddy and shadowy as they were now.  
Thomas sat on his side of the bed, torn between calling out to her and remaining considerate of her mourning.  
She had only just lost a child, after all. In truth, they both had, for it was the child they'd made together.  
From the measure in which the loss had affected the parents, though, it was clear as dawn that the child was especially Lucille's.  
The newborn's death pushed his sister to a place far far away from these damp empty halls, perhaps six feet underground with the little corpse.  
Thomas felt as helpless as a little boy against her grief.  
"Lucille..." He called, faintly. At last, he decided to make an attempt at bringing Lucille back to his side, where she was meant to be.  
He had to call out to her a second time though, more clearly, for she hadn't seemed to hear the first time.  
Lucille had to shake herself off at last, her beautiful ebony hair tumbling down from her shoulders to her waist.  
Thomas stretched an arm towards her, slowly, as one would do with an injured animal.  
  
"Thomas." She observed, almost wonderingly. He had been sitting idly there for quite a while now, and yet she had only just seen him.  
Thomas smiled, deciding that he had only just arrived, and that he had been especially deft in his movements, so Lucille was in the right for not having acknowledged his presence sooner.  
His arm still lingered between them, suspended in mid-air. He shifted awkwardly from his side of the bed to the middle of it, where he could touch her.  
Thankfully Lucille did not shrink away from his touch, even though Thomas wasn't so certain if that was what she required at the moment or not.  
"It has been a long day, hasn't it?" Lucille whispered against her brother's chest.  
Even though her words came out in a mutter, Thomas understood all the same.  
"Yes, but I am here now. _You_ are here now." He confirmed, as if his own words truly held the power to hold Lucille's fleeting conscience still and close to him.  
She did not answer, and soon enough he began to feel the nightshirt on his chest getting wet.  
Thomas only held her tighter than any of them thought possible.  
" _And our son too_." Her voice was broken and stained with tears, but Thomas heard her all too well.  
He broke from the embrace slowly. They exchanged a long silent look, in which Thomas could see his own bewildered face reflected in Lucille's dark eyes.  
"He isn't, Lucille... he is-"  
  
There was a flicker in Lucille's features, an impalpable and transitory ghost of something terrible, that sent thrills down Thomas' spine.  
"He is what?" She asked, behind eyes as red as a fury. Lucille nearly frightened him when she was like that. She used to swing from one mood, aloof and cold, almost dead, to another, fiery and vengeful and terrible. She had been doing this since childhood, but now everything got a good deal worse, and she had lost all control of herself.  
Thomas hushed, but never recoiled. Lucille had to know that he loved her no matter how destructive her ways, he loved her and wasn't afraid of her, he loved her and didn't think she was mad. She was just a mother grieving for her lost boy whom they had buried in the manor's courtyard only a week past, and he had to offer her all the sympathy and all the warmth he could find in himself. Seeing him relent soothed her anger, and her wide eyes became melancholic and heavy-lidded again.  
"He is here, even now. I can feel him. Sometimes I can even see him. I take him in my arms and we explore the manor undisturbed."  
Thomas looked around in the half-light, out of sheer suspicion. Allerdale Hall was ancient and silent, but haunted? Whatever he might have thought of it, it was no use trying to contradict Lucille, nor telling her that they could have other sons to replace the one they'd lost.  
"Yes, my love. He will not leave you, and neither will I." That's all he could bring himself to say. Lucille nodded her silent response.  
They spent the rest of the night entangled as tight as vines, although none of them could fall asleep.  
Until dawn, Thomas couldn't free himself from the absurd convinction that they were not alone in that room.


End file.
